I hadn't read Camus for a while. A decade now; almost two. (It somehow confuses me to be able to talk about the past in decades and not years.) I remember him well as he was the first author whose books I bought at Kinokuniya, the bookstore I always found too high-end, but that carried... Continue Reading →
I tend to live in the future more than I live in the present or the past. I’m constantly thinking about what comes next, and how events will come to transpire. This tendency of mine is both blessing and curse. It is a blessing because I’m constantly planning ahead: nasty surprises are few and far... Continue Reading →
“What’s next?” That’s a question I find myself asking increasingly frequently these days. A question that is more often than not left to evaporate into the void without a hint of an answer lurking anywhere. Haven't felt this aimless since... Never. That's right: I've never felt this aimless. I used to have these feelings of... Continue Reading →
From The Unconsoled, by Kazuo Ishiguro: [E]very now and then, he looks back over this life he's led and wonders if he didn't perhaps let certain things slip by. He wonders how things might have been if he'd been, well, a little less timid. A little less timid and a little more passionate.
My creativity has died. Seriously. I can’t think of new things to say or do. And with the end of my creativity comes a feeling of naught. A feeling that screams silence. A feeling of a nothingness like a heavy fog that’s not quite there but everywhere. I can’t remember the last time I felt... Continue Reading →
A cluttered out leads to cluttered in; life's a swirl now of "what's next?" and "how come?" and "damnit get the f*** out of here!" and "leave me alone!"; but at the very same time it's got "ohmagawd this is great!" and a good "you serious?" and "wow." I sit at my desk plotting and... Continue Reading →
On a business trip. Belgium -- can you believe it? Back in a week, it's probably as short as most business trips go. But still there were many times I think we both felt that it felt like Perth all over again (four months of not seeing each other!) I still remember when she went... Continue Reading →
I've been facing a sort of existential crisis recently, and I think it started with my reading of Between the Monster and the Saint by Richard Holloway, which talked about the humanistic movement and what it meant to be human (not much, it seems). I enjoyed the book thoroughly, reading it any time and every... Continue Reading →
Don't bother thinking too much about whether or not you're living the life that you should be living, whether you're doing "the best you can" or whether you're "living the best life possible" -- there is no such thing. But if only it were that easy to stop thinking: what if there is?
Sometimes you're just minding your own business when out of the blue reality hits you: life is meaningless. But despite your new-found revelation, you carry on with a big grin on your face, pretending everything's all right; eventually, you'll realise life isn't meaningless or meaningful, and that meaning's just a construct our brains conjure to... Continue Reading →
Donn, fragments 